Can I ask you a personal question?

I'm guessing Maxim or Men's Health recently ran an article on how to start a conversation with a hot girl on a dating site and bullet one is:  "Ask if you can ask her a personal question."

Why do I think this? Because in the past four days I have received at least a dozen of these exact messages.

Here's my universal answer: 

No! You don't personally know me so there is no way you could ask me a personal question. Even if I agreed to answer said question, you don't know my person. 

For the record, "Are you looking to make a connection and develop a real relationship or just looking for a casual fling?" is NOT a "personal" question. It's just a question, and a bad one at that. Is, "I just want to get bent over a railing and banged till my brain bleeds," a "personal" answer?

I get it, draw her in by asking her about herself and then she'll think you care about what she thinks, or that she thinks at all. We know your game, guys. We know you just want to get laid and you couldn't care less about our thoughts and dreams.

Truth: I don't care if you think either! If I start to care, well, then you've got the golden ticket. Until then, relax. Stop trying to creep into my head and just tell me I'm pretty.

Size matters.

I've never considered myself to be much of a "size queen." Until today, that is. Men assume women think bigger is better and I've spent years trying to convince them otherwise. Then today, I realized that in some circumstances, too small really can be a deal breaker. 

No, I am not talking about your "equipment." I'm talking about your office supplies. 

This morning I went through another round in the ring with my mini handheld stapler. Who'd-a-thought such a minor piece of office essentials could cause me so much grief! If you've ever tried to staple discovery responses, you know what I mean. If not... You'll just have to take my word for it. I knew there were bigger, better staplers out there, but because I had never had the opportunity to experience one, I didn't realize what I was missing. To my surprise, my suite-mate allowed me access to his 60-page stapler.  That's right - 60 pages! It was euphoric. I've been ruined for all other handheld staplers. 

So, the moral of this story is: maybe bigger IS better? I guess you just have to try it to find out. 

Tomorrow, I'm gonna test the commercial copier. I'm getting chills just thinking about it. 

"Prenup" is not a dirty word

I came across a blog today, written by a lay person (non lawyer), describing “Why Prenups Are Bad.” I understand this woman is happily married with three young adult children, and while I am happy for her, I was not amused at her assumptions. What is more disturbing, however, is that I assume her opinion is not uncommon. She explained that prenuptial agreements show a lack of trust in a partner, a lack of commitment to the relationship, a plan for the end, and stated that with a prenuptial agreement, the chances of success for the marriage are limited. I could not disagree more.

I recommend any adult with a business, real property, children, and pretty much anyone over thirty should execute a prenuptial agreement before deciding to get married. Romance aside, marriage is a contractual agreement.  It is an agreement to partner your life with another person. To share in real property, income, possible offspring, etc. This contract, however, has no set terms.  “Till Death do us Part” will not hold up in court, nor should it.

A prenuptial agreement sets out the terms of the marriage and any possible termination of the partnership. It allows both parties to disclose and discuss their finances, expectations and assets up front. I do not see how this can be seen as a bad idea. It would benefit all pre-marital couples to have this conversation. It would also make sense to, at this time, when everything is on the table and you are both on good terms, to determine what should happen if the relationship were to expire prematurely.  Obviously, we all hope this is not the outcome, but it cannot hurt to be prepared. The alternate option is to “wait and see” and hope that if things go south you can amicably divide and negotiate, which is rare. Not only does a prenup make the termination less painful, it also makes it less expensive for the family, as well as the individuals.

As for the rational described in the blog, I have to say it seems to be a very archaic manner of thinking. Divorce is not the end of the world and people make the decision to end relationships all the time. Forever is commitment everyone cannot make. I believe prenups create more trust, a stronger bond, and enhance the chance of the marriage excelling.

A prenuptial agreement is not a plan for divorce. It is a plan to protect yourself, your future spouse, your future children and your assets. Ignoring the fact that relationships end is not the answer.  Planning for the worst is the best way to ensure the best in any circumstance.

Deadbeat Dad Disasters

It's no secret that I have no sympathy for deadbeat dads (DBDs). My momma depended on those child support payments and my dad took pride in his estranged responsibilities. However, I recently rep'd a DBD. I know, I know, why Disney??? Well, let's just say I did it for a friend. And money. Disney's gotta eat too...

This particular DBD is far from the worst-of-the-worst. He has, in fact, paid a substantial amount of support since his divorce was final, but the past couple of years he has significantly slacked. Significant = $75,000. Don't worry, no one is starving and these kids are not suffering, but I appreciate the frustration of the Ex.

As expected, his Ex filed for Contempt (2nd time) for his failure to produce the funds. Contempt is a Divorce Lawyers (DL) nightmare. Contempt cases are quasi-criminal, which means, the defendant can get locked up. Hauled off. Escorted to the big house. I do not practice criminal law for a very good reason - I DO NOT want to be responsible for another person's freedom. I'm a stress ball au natural so the additional pressure is not good for my soul, or my blood pressure. Unfortunately, I was already in too deep to pawn him off on a more willing DL so I handled it like a boss. Boss = not sleeping for days, studying similar hearing transcripts and memorizing any possible statute or case law that may be in any way referenced. And a whole lot of Diet Coke.

So D-day comes, my perfect pantsuit freshly pressed and I looked like a million bucks. I was way too early, because it's not like I slept anyway, and then we sat. We sat for 7 hours. We were the very last case heard. FYI, I'm usually in and out in less than 2 hours, so this was rough. I spent those hours consoling my client, reviewing my notes, and convincing myself that I had a really good case. For you new comers, I am extremely susceptible to myself.

So, finally, we are called. First, the judge called us [me and my less-daper opposing counsel (OPC)] into chambers. Chambers are cool and make you feel super important, until you realize you're about to lose. Then chambers are the third level of hell because your client isn't even there to hear the judge explain why she already hates him. Okay, fine, she didn't say "hate" but trust that I could see it in her eyes.

In a nutshell, it was downhill from there. All of my well-rehearsed-in-my-bathroom-mirror arguments were worthless when I was stopped by the hand and shushed like a preschooler. She, the judge, wanted him locked up. That's right... big house. Let me clearly state that my client would not fare well in that environment. I was terrified. Then we all exited hell and returned to our stage. Luckily, judge decided on other penalties for the failure to support and a stern warning that next time, he'd be in the cage. When I say "stern" I mean "mean." I'm pretty sure he cried. I know I almost did. I could feel my olive skin turning beet red and there was nothing I could do to stop it. Defeat. That's all I felt. I left the Courthouse feeling the emotional equivalence to the loser in the Vegas boxing ring. It sucked.

Bright side (cause there always is one): it can never be that bad again. I mean... it just can't. I have tasted defeat and it was bitter. I'd rather eat cilantro and I f*$#ing HATE cilantro. Next time I will refuse the DBD, or tell him to just abide by the order. For goodness sake people, if there's one rule you should always follow, it's the one made by the person with the power to take away your freedom.

Facelift

I appreciate all my faithful readers and hope you all enjoyed witnessing my fall back into the single life. Unfortunately, I'm bored now. My dating life just isn't all that exciting and the exciting parts I can't really discuss because other involved parties may be reading... My work life, well, that's taken on a whole new persona, so Disney has to roll with the tide. I hope ya'll are still thoroughly entertained.

Disclaimer: If you are contemplating marriage or contemplating divorce or contemplating any major life change, please do not use this blog as reference material. For actual reference material, shoot me an email and I'll direct you to a proper source. If you use this site in making those decisions even after I have warned you against it, just don't tell anyone.

Thanks! And enjoyyyy!

Is There Whiskey in the Water?

Dating can be an extremely painful/scary/sad experience for an individual but it will always be pure entertainment for your friends. Disney, as the namesake suggests, lives to entertain. Therefore, I share some of my most... odd Messages with a couple close friends for a good laugh. Well, that's what I say anyway. Really I'm trying to figure out what I'm doing to attract all the crazies in Los Angeles (and many other areas).

Recently the inbox of my fav online dating site went wild and I was averaging an obscene amount of messages each day. Most were not so appealing so I feared I have accidentally uploaded a raunchy pic from my secret vault app! But all is well, and those are still safely stored away.

Of roughly 10 suitors, maybe one will be worthy of a reply, or maybe, possibly coffee. God, I'm so sick of coffee.

Mommy and Me

I started this year vowing to immerse myself in positivity. To say my vow has been tested is an understatement. Granted, this has been a year of huge achievement for me, it has also been a year of great loss; and now I'm losing again. I've never heard the words, "six months to live," outside of a the big screen and I have to believe there's a more sensitive way to state the same point.

Although I'm sad to lose another loved one I'm happy that, like my grandmothers, he has also lived a fulfilling happy life. He's content with the situation and handling the news well. My mother, on the other hand, is preparing to bury her husband, only a few months after burying her mother. For her, my heart weeps.

Someone recently told me they admired my strength. It's no secret I don't take compliments well so I instantly questioned the sentiment. The only rational explanation is that I'm not strong, I'm still learning, and I have the greatest possible teacher.

My mother has every reason to lock herself in her room with a gallon of chardonnay.  No one should lose a partner while they're still mourning a parent.  But she can't, and she won't, hide from the world.  She'll stand by her husband's side and smile whenever he needs it.  She'll keep his adult children and ex-wife updated on his condition and learn to use FaceTime so he can see them all as much as possible. She'll never cry... at least not in front of anyone. She'll make all arrangements according to his specifications and she'll continue to tell me she's "fine," even though she knows I know she's not. She's hanging by a thread but I know that thread won't break.

My mother is strong. She is the strongest women I've ever known. No matter what life throws in her direction she takes the hit and continues to play. No, she hasn't always been the best mother or the best wife or the best friend, but she has been the best example of what a strong woman is for this woman right here.

And there's my feeble attempt at finding the positive in yet another devastating loss.

The longer the wedding the shorter the marriage.

I don't know if anyone's ever said that but it sounds good so I'll go with it. As "wedding season" starts to die down I've had a chance to critique others' lifelong decision that still sends a chill down my spine.

A wedding is a beautiful, special and significant event. That's right, an event. It's technically just a party. As long as you don't gain 20 pounds the week before, and the bar doesn't run out of whiskey, the night will be a success. A marriage, on the other hand, is far more complicated.

A marriage is so much more than a single event. It's a combination of events, both good and bad, shared by two people. Or more for polygamists but that's another blog. Unlike a wedding, a marriage takes work. You're not just choosing between red velvet and vanilla cream, you're choosing a life partner. I use "life partner" to mean, partner in the business of life. Not necessarily "for life" because no one should be expected to make that kind of contract. Would you lease an apartment for life? Of course not. I can barely handle my 2 year plan with AT&T.

So in summary, what I've discovered is that people, especially women, tend to confuse the want for a wedding with the want for a marriage. If you wouldn't be just as happy with the same person saying the same vows in an abandoned building on skid row, maybe getting married isn't the best idea. I'm sure you have a birthday coming up.

High Expectations.

It's my biggest fault. I expect every day to be sunny and warm. This is LA, so that's generally the case. I expect sloppy kisses in the morning, a hot shower, and a smooth mildly trafficy drive to work. If I go to work. Because I'm lucky to have a job that allows me to decide. These expectations are simple, I guess, which is why I list them first. 

Specific events, however, I may be expecting a but much. I expect every date to be straight out of The Notebook. If a guy doesn't climb up the Ferris Wheel to see me, it's just not gonna work out. I expect all my clients to be honest and understanding. But I'm a lawyer. I expects friends to be supportive and fun and for the most part most of them are. I also expect to succeed in everything I do which, if you've seen me ride a bike, or bake a cake, you'd know is a stretch. 

Today I went into a courtroom expecting an instant replay from A Few Good Men but with pointy-toe pumps and pastel highlighters. What I got was a band-aid commercial. It was quick and easy and I didn't get to yell at anyone. To say the least, I was disappointed. 

I should have known my over prepared self, in my pressed pants suit with my colored highlighters, was preparing for diss disappointment when I couldn't spot my Nicholson lookalike in the hallway. But I didn't. 

I'm sure I'll look back on this day and think, "Wow! That could've been way worse!" But right now, for today, I'm gonna look in the mirror at my liquid eyeliner, pearl studs and perfect bun screaming, "I Want The Truth!" Until I get it all out of my system. 

Daddys and Divorce

Happy Father's Day to all the great dads out there! And happy non-fathers day to those of you that have managed to take the proper precautions to prevent reproduction rather than abandoning an innocent and unplanned child.

I've said before my mom likes to get married so I have more dads than most. I have my biological dad, who is the greatest man I've ever known, and two step-dads who did an excellent job of directing, yet not infringing, which is a tough role for a step parent.

My parents divorced when I was five years old. They had been married seven years and together for a decade. Turns out my dad is a much better father than a husband, but hey, no complaints here. When I was young, in the 80s, divorce wasn't quite as common as it is these days. In my middle class, mid-western suburb I was the only 1st grader with "no dad." At least that's how the kids saw it. My mom had an even tougher time than me. The other PTO moms treated her like a leper. Like her divorce was contagious and may give their husbands ideas of greener pastures. If these same women had spent more time and energy on their own marriage, and less time gossiping of my mother's failed marriage then half of them probably would not have come crying to her over the next few years when their relationships hit the same fate. I digress.

For years my teachers and friends and friends' parents' would look at me with pity. I was the poor little girl with no dad that would end up on a pole someday. Little did they know I not only had a dad, I had the best dad. And instead of the pole I ended up on the bar. The state bar - pun!

See, I didn't see my dad every morning and every night. I saw my dad every weekend when I was young and every other weekend as I got older. Because I only saw my dad for a limited amount of time, this time was MY time. We played sports, went out to eat, saw movies, fishing, swimming, you name it, we did it. My dad taught me to ride a bike, drive a car, drive a stick shift, and how to balance a checkbook. We're still working on that one. When I was with my dad, it was dad and Disney time. No baseball or football (until he got me into it too, that sneaky dad) no girlfriends, or work stuff. It was all about me. My friends with live-at-home dads, they didn't get that. Little did they know - I felt sorry for them. Their dad's would leave for work without saying bye, come home late at night and go straight to the TV or bed. They never did the fun things I did with my dad. I assume their dad's didn't appreciate the time with the kids like mine did. I assume they thought the week night dinners and watching the game while the kids did homework was enough. Maybe it was enough, but I still think I got the better deal. This actually worked both way in that I got a lot of mother-daughter time as well, but we'll save that for another blog.

I deal with divorce on a daily basis. It's my profession and I love it. Many many people ask me how and why I can do this like it's the equivalent of dropping bombs on small enemy cities. It's not. I can do it because I know that while divorce can be an excruciating experience for a family, if handled amicably, it really can be the best possible outcome for everyone. My parents divorce was not easy for them, but they made sure it was easy on me.

The only real fault in my father is that he set my expectations extremely high. I do want children of my own someday and the man I choose to procreate with is going to be a great dad, just like mine. I won't settle for any man that is less of a man than my daddy. And daddy and his .44 Magnum won't either.  

Pimpin' ain't easy... for a lady.

2013 has been the best and worst year of my life thus far. The worst being the loss of two prominent women in my life and the best being the passing score which will now allow me to proceed with my lofty career goals and, at least in my mind, finally start my life.

So with this new development my head has been spinning with professional 'to-dos' and I have lists of lists of lists of things I need and want to accomplish in the next week - month - year. While this may sound obsessive and insane to some for a power-girl like myself, I'm in heaven. I have no stop signs in my future and all the lights are green. Well... professionally speaking that is.

There is this whole other aspect of my life which I constantly place in the backseat (or the trunk if the mood fits) that I've desperately been trying to give more attention. If I loved dating the way I love working, well, I'd be an escort (and a good one).

So as I spend each morning reviewing and revising my professional goals, I thought I should spend a little time reviewing my romantic speed bumps and what-not. During this painstaking task I made a discovery; it's not a secret discovery and I'm sure many have lived through it before me but it's my discovery and it deserves a blog. Here goes:

Strong women need strong men. Strong men can settle for pretty much anything with the right anatomy. Strong women are like the O-neg of dating; we can save anyone, but only a match can save us.

I used this analogy to not only review my own past lovers but those failed relationships of my closest, bad-ass girlfriends as well. Same story. Men that are weak-willed will only be intimidated and resentful of strong and ambitious women. Strong men see that same ambition as admirable and inspiring.

I'm sure there's some alternate version of this that my male friends can conjure, but for my purposes, this is the issue most relevant.

I can't say that this applies to every guy that's vacationed at Disney, but I can say that for many this rule of thumb can be played out perfectly. And I don't know how to cure the defect that makes my own reader fail to pinpoint a man's entire persona with only a look, but if anyone has any advice, I'm listening.

Until then, I'll have to continue to trust in the words of my dear friends and hope they keep pointing me in the right direction. And away from the operating table.

Fifty Shades of Fornication

Yes, I've read Fifty Shades of Grey. Yes... more than once. I've talked before about the appeal of Christian Grey but he's no lone ranger in the world or erotic fiction. He may be the most popular, at the moment, but he's far from the most mesmerizing of the characters I've enjoyed.

So this is the point where I admit that Fifty was not my first, nor my last, date with erotic fiction. I believe it was 2002 that my first Lora Leigh novel fell into my lap and I've enjoyed a number of her and other authors ever since. In my defense, I'm a regular reader of fiction and nonfiction. I don't ONLY read dirty books. But I do love a good dirty book. And it's not just my generation of women that have fallen into this romantic trap - my mother, my grandmother; they both had their "adult" novels, although I'm betting they involved more romance and less restraints than my personal selection...

So what is it that makes these novels so popular among women? Well, romance - duh. I can't even recall the last time a man lead me into a candlelit room with a bed covered in satin sheets and rose petals. And why hasn't a gorgeous man, with a hidden sensitive side, introduced me to my sexual wild child while saving me from a psychopath kidnapper? The majority of these novels are written by women for women and the activities and encounters are mere fantasies. I get it.

The truth is, I don't want plants in my bed because I don't want to clean that up. And I'd rather not be abducted by a psychopath. Period. The novel provides a way to escape the reality and fall into the fiction. Not just the "erotic" but the story as well. The erotic provides a way for women to admit and mentally experience acts and activities they'd never dreamed of much less discussed out loud. For example, some women may enjoy the idea of being strung up naked in a room full of hungry men, or tied to a bed with leather restraints at the mercy of her lover. They may not, however, want to actually live out the fantasy.

Before Fifty, Kegal Balls were just a toy sold at the "sex store" and now housewives use them while they clean the house. (Okay, maybe not, but they should.) Before Fifty a leather crop had no purpose outside the stable, and now many women lay in bed at night and picture their man standing over them in his worn jeans and the brown crop while their hands drift down their bodies...

Fifty brought sex out of the bedroom and into the tea party conversation. Everybody wins. That is until the Mrs. decides Mr. needs to spice it up or sleep on the couch, but at least Mr. has an accessible reference to turn to. (FYI - Skip to Book 2.)

Disney Does It Herself

Apologies for the hiatus.  Specifically, I apologize to all my fans in Russia. <Shout out to Russia!> When I first began this blog (well, re-began anyway) I had just exited a pretty lengthy relationship and I used this platform as a method to heal. I did heal and I learned an interesting lesson as well:

The Ex and I were together for four years and we were good friends before that. When the relationship ended, I truly believed I was over it, and him, and ready to move forward with my life. I was half right. I was over, and still am "over" the Ex. He's not a bad person but he's not the person for me. That was hard to accept but I did and that's all. Where I went wrong was assuming I was over the "relationship" which turns out to be a different struggle all together. This was not a bad relationship. Obviously it was not perfect, but it was not bad either. No one was abused or neglected.  In actuality, we were best friends; confidants; partners. Every decision I made was discussed with him first, and vice versa. Now, I know what you're thinking, 'Disney! How could you be so codependent?' Relax. I wasn't. Dependent is such an overused word. His input wasn't something I needed, it was something I wanted. I loved and respected him. So while I successfully emotionally detached from the person, I failed to grieve the loss of the relationship. It's not easy to go from a partner to a single. Losing a friend is hard; losing a best friend and lover is much more difficult. It's not the person, per se, it's the attachment that I miss. Don't get me wrong, I still make my own decisions and I will for the rest of my life, but I do miss having that person that cares what those decisions are.

That said, the blog was a success. Although I still miss the partnership, I have grieved and, this time, I really am over it. So where have you been, Disney? Well, figuring all this out, for starters, and then figuring out what to do next. I began this as a "comedic dating blog" and I haven't written because I haven't had much to say. Yes, I'm still dating. That area of my life is quite normal, as far as normal goes. I haven't met any truly unusual men (or women) and I have met a couple really great men (not so many women). If these suitors turn into something significant, don't worry, you'll be the first to know.

So, here's what else I have been up to. In case you haven't heard, I lost two grandmother's this month. My only two, actually, and now I am grandmother-less. It's sad and I'm sad, but I accept that this is how life goes. Per usually, I have tried to find the positive in all this. It took a minute, but I think I got it: I want to live. I spent weeks going through my grandmothers' things, reviewing their lives and the one thing I found most common was their ability to live. I haven't been living.  I've been going through the motions, breathing in and out, but I haven't been really living. I wrote an entire post on my resolution to think positive but I failed to act on it. So that's what I've been up to - living.

I decided I was to redecorate. I've been sanding and painting and learning all sorts of labor-intensive tips and tricks. I'm a regular at Home Depot. A month ago, I can say I didn't own a toolbox and now I have a full toolbox and I know how to use almost everything in it!

I decided to cook. My mom can't cook and she's quite happy so I figured this wasn't a skill I needed or wanted either. I was wrong. I care more about my health now and I want to know what I'm putting in my body. That  means no Big Macs, no matter how delicious.

I go to the gym. I've had a gym membership for years that I failed to use. I thought "being a member" was enough. It's not. I have never lifted a weight in my life.  The idea of picking up heavy things just to put them down again seemed insane. Literally, institution-worthy insane. Now, I lift weights (not much weight) and every day I get a little bit stronger.

I hike. I've always loved hiking. I did not love the waking-up and making-myself-do-it part. I still don't adore that part of the process but being at the top of a canyon, in Los Angeles, looking over this big bad city when the sun first comes up has turned into one of my very favorite things. My lil dog loves it too.

I live. Everyday I make an effort to do something outside my ordinary routine. I've spent a lot of time planning and preparing for what I want in life and very little time enjoying what I have. I have time, more than most people anyway. I have freedom, no dependents to worry about yet. I have health and energy that I want to take advantage of, and maintain that as long as I can. Some day I want to have children. And I want to have grandchildren. And I want to be present in their lives so they can enjoy the story of my life as I did my grandmothers. In a nutshell, I'm writing a story. My story.

Bucket List

In an attempt to follow through on my plan to enjoy life more and plan life less I've thought up a few tasks that I hope to achieve at some point while I'm breathing.  Some I may do this week, some may take a little longer, but I hope to satisfy each at some point in my (hopefully very long) lifetime.

Raise children - I don't need to supply the farm with slave laborers but I would like to see the world from the eyes of a mini-Disney and help them learn and grow in it.
Get married - I have no desire in making any oath to any diety but I do admire those that love and respect each other so much they want to celebrate and share that with their closest family and friends.
Parasailing - I love the tourist ads with happy parasailers flying in the air, although my extreme fear of the ocean has kept me from trying.
Snorkling - also hampered by my fear of the massive body of saltwater full of creatures I can't identify that don't require oxygen and want to eat me alive.
Shoot a gun - I don't wish to join the NRA or anything but I would like to be comfortable in the presence of a firearm.
Go to Europe - I will do this. Some day.
Have sex in public - I can't say I've never done this but I can say I've never done this for the pure excitement of it, as opposed to just being an inebriated mass of hormones.

It's okay to get laid on Easter.

If I told you I knew a guy that died, his body was locked in a stone mausoleum, and a few days later he rose from the dead and escaped the stone vault you'd tell me I was crazy.  Unless, of course, we're at church, and then you'd say you know him too.

The story of the resurrection of christ is definitely baffling. I mean, I'm a logical thinker and this just ain't logical. What is logical? Someone had too much blood wine and wandered into a cave to pass out.

That fact is this "holiday" is just another stolen ritual from the poor Pagans. Those early Christians were not too original...  This also explains where the bunnies and eggs come from as I do not recall their inclusion in my reading of the Old Testament. The best explanation I've found is that Easter refers to the pagan festival of Astarte, also known as 'Ishtar' and pronounced 'Easter'. The festival was held in late around the time of the Passover. Originally, it was a celebration of the earth's regenerating itself after the winter season. It's no secret that the Pagans cared more about feeding the people than murdering them on crosses and such. The festival involved the celebration of fertility and reproduction which is why the common symbols of Easter were the rabbit and (for obvious reasons) the egg. 

So the only true way of celebrating this special day, in Disney's opinion, is to make babies. Hunting for eggs takes on a whole new meaning, right? That's right. Fertilize, or get fertilized, or just practice if you're not quite ready for a lifetime commitment of parenting.  It's okay... it's Easter! 

Running In Circles

My grandmother passed away. It wasn't sudden, but it wasn't not sudden either. I'm sad, but I accept that it's natural for grandparents to pass away. I mean, she did live 79 pretty great years.

I learned early this week that she had been hospitalized. It turns out she had aggressive cancer and not so long to live. My mom said she wanted to speak to me and I have to admit, I was scared. She told me she loved me, she's so proud of me, and she'd always be with me in everything I do. That last part got me. I'm not much of a crier, at least not in front of people, but at that moment, for the first time in a long time, I completely broke down. My mom got back on the phone and then she started crying too.

After I hung up the phone and wiped my eyes I replayed what she has said, "I will always be with you." And I thought, 'she really always has...'

My grandmother basically raised my mom and my aunt as a single parent. My grandfather left her when my mom was young. They lived over a bar and my grandmother worked for the bus company and took college classes at night. This is back when women could not have a bank account in their name, so I can only imagine the hurdles she faced as a single mother. But she did it. She raised two amazing women as well. My amazing mother, and my aunt, who may be the most intelligent person I have ever known. So as a child, a young adult, and now an actual adult, my grandmother's struggle, her hurdles and her achievements have always been in my mind when my own lofty goals seemed out of reach. For that, I am eternally grateful.

So now what? Well, this whole experience has forced me to take a look at my life in a different way. I am constantly analyzing me and my choices, but through my own eyes as a 31 year old women. Now I look at my life through the eyes of me as an 79 year old woman, and I'm not sure I like what I see.

My favorite thing to do, in the world, is sit outside and read a book with my little dog. But on my deathbed, will I really want to reminisce about all the great books I've read? Probably not. I'm great at goal setting. I have a ten-year plan, a five-year plan, a one-year plan... and while I think these are important, there's something missing. I need to plan more fun. I moved to CA because I love the beach and I haven't been in months. I used to hike weekly and now almost never. I need a bucket list.  In all my planning I focused solely on professional success and completely ignored life experience. I want and need more life experiences.

I understand that I may have to sacrifice some naps and I'm okay with that. I also understand that my irrational fear of almost everything may provide some hurdles, and I'm okay with that too. Because, without life's hurdles, we're all just running in circles anyway.

RIP Grandma <3 Disney

V-day the Hypocracy

Saint Valentine is believed to be a Christian martyr who made his name popular by spreading Christianity and marrying soldiers, whom under the the Roman emperor Claudius II were not allowed to marry because he believed it made the soldiers weak. Valentine, on the other hand, believed this to be unjust and met secretly to wed the young (very young back then) lovers. Oh, and he healed a blind girl and left her a note before his execution which closed with, "Your Valentine."

Valentine was executed on February 14, 270AD for refusing to recognize Roman Gods. Since then, this day has been commercialized into the ultimate lover's day in the U.S. and all over the world.

Here's my beef:

The general public, and specifically Christians, celebrate this man for going against the government and performing illegal marriage ceremonies because he believed all were entitled to this sacred union. Yet, in this U.S. anyway, present day Christians consistently fight the government to ensure "all" are most definitely not entitled to this same union.  If you haven't figured it out yet, I'm referring to the gays.

This seems a bit hypocritical to me...

Ultimately this day was initially a day to celebrate "Christian love" and love for Christ, and has no real connection to what it is today.

Present day Valentine's Day can most easily be describes as a day of chocolate, flowers, and pressure, That's right: pressure.

If you're in a relationship you are required to not only recognize this special day, but show an abundance of love and appreciation for your partner, in the form of flowers and chocolate and flowers and more chocolate.

If you're not in a relationship you are required to gush over the love lives of your associates and feel insecure about your lack of partnership.

Fuck that.

I've spent many Valentine's Days in committed relationships and for the most part the day was not much different than the rest. Here's the thing - Disney needs adoration EVERY day. One day a year just isn't enough. Actually, it's borderline insulting to think we need an assigned day to show people how we feel about them  Why not just be adults and express what we want, when we want?

I'll admit it's cute to watch the young ones choosing their "Valentine," but class rules require student bring a valentine for everyone so no one feels left out. I'll never forget my mother forcing me to give a valentine to the boy who, just a few days before, punched me in the stomach. Not to mention, promoting young love in elementary school may not be such a great idea now that middle-schoolers are making babies.

I'm sure this all comes off as a single-girl rant, but the truth is, this is my first single-girl Valentine's Day in a very very long time. I don't feel the least bit of pressure.  I will go about my day as any other, and tonight I get to choose who shall be my Valentine. That's right, I still get to choose my Valentine, as in, it's not predetermined by relationship status.

In the end: Flowers die, chocolate makes you fat, and single girls have the options that the married girls envy.  Yay, Valentine's Day!

Sex Myths Revealed by Disney

I was sent this link the other day.  It may be spam, but I found it quite interesting nonetheless. Most of these myths I've heard myself and some I've never heard before. Others are just disturbing.

THE TIMES OF INDIA (yes, really)

9 Most Ridiculous Sex Myths Of All Time[!]

#1 Size Matter
 - Yes and no. I don't care much for the biological response in the article so I'll put it like this. Penises are like pie. You want more than a bite, but not the whole pie. I'd say there's a pretty good range of "acceptable" so most men shouldn't worry. But remember - too much is just as bad as not enough. I mean, we're not all porn stars.

#2 Love Food and Aphrodisiacs Will Get You "Tingly" 
- As the author states, I have never been "aroused" by food. There are a variety of things that make me "tingly" but indigestion isn't one of them.

#3 Men Think More About Sex Than Women

- I like to think of this one as God's practical joke. As adolescents, the boys and their raging hormones just want to do it all the time. They tend to lack in... experience, so the girls don't get to see the super fun side of sex. Then, later in life, the female's hormones go rabid but by then the boys have new interests, like football and beer. And now, it's socially frowned upon to have casual sex with strangers, or minors, so the poor girls have to take matters into their own hands (pun); or they just start a blog.

#4 The Withdrawal Method Won't Get You Knocked Up

- Are there still people, that are not cast on 16 and Pregnant, that still believe this? I don't even trust a man to remember to put the seat down much less to remember to move during, arguably, the highlight his day.

#5 Women Don't Like Porn 

- Well that's a blatant lie.

#6 You Won't Get Pregnant If You have Sex While Menstruating

- You'll just get dirty... Lets all take a moment to remember lil spermies are super tough guys. Some survive in labs for months and months, so it's reasonable to believe they can wait out a couple days.

#7 An Orgasm For Women Is Supposed To Be Earth Shattering 

- Wait... this is NOT true? Wow. I'll keep my world "rockin'" thank-you-very-much. Having an orgasm without even knowing sounds like a horrible way to live.

#8 Every Woman Has A G Spot

- I have to agree with article in that hunting for steak when you have chicken on the table seems silly. Just eat, for goodness sake.

#9 If She Doesn't Make Pleasure Noises, She's Not Enjoying It

- "Some women are vocal and some women are not." True. But if she gives you the, "What-the-fuck-are-you-doing" look, maybe you should ask what she likes.  Listen for "pleasure noises" but listen for pain too. And ladies - don't be afraid to lead the way. This is probably the only time a man is ready and willing to ask for directions.

Sexting 101

Sexting: the act of sending sexual explicit messages or photographs primarily between mobile phones.

This new trend started a few years back. I thought it missed my generation, but apparently I was wrong.  I guess the idea is that we are so busy throughout the day that we have to substitute sexting for actual intercourse in order to save time? Or maybe sexting is a way for the Christian kids to get off without going to hell... who knows. Chances are you've done it. If you haven't, give it a go. It doesn't hurt, I promise. If you do it all the time - stop. Go get yourself a real girlfriend for goodness sake.

Sexting, like everything fun in life, has rules.

Rule #1 - KNOW who you're sending your own pics to. Unless you really want to see your best feature on Tumbler, you want to make sure the other party isn't going to mass-text your goods to his friends. Or your parents.

Rule#2 - Be honest. If you're going to send a copied pic make that clear. It's false advertising if you don't.

Rule #3 - Include an introduction. I know it seems erotic to receive that surprise picture package (pun) mid-day, but it's less erotic when you're, say, in a meeting, or at lunch with your mom. Make sure your partner knows the next text is NSFW.

Rule #4 - Keep it classy. I'm sure there are those that like the close-up, fluidy, ick-I-can't-think-of-another-adjective, but that's something you should really work up to. Start simple.

Rule #5 - One at a time. What? Where's the fun in that? I know, I know, the idea of (electronically) banging two chicks at once is an easy sell. But it takes far more focus than you'd imagine. It's very easy to get caught up in the moment and mix up the ladies. Then... you've got two very pissed off ladies. Don't you watch S&TC? Girls may not expect monogamous sexting but they prefer to assume it.

Rule #6 - Be monogamous with your sexting. If you're going to be sexting all over town, at least disclose that. No one likes a cyber-slut.

Rule #7 - It's still cheating. Sorry. If you have a real-life partner and you're sexting another it's a breach in loyalty and trust and she/he should kick you to the curb.

Rule #8 - Double check the recipient box. Your dad does not want to get a picture of your adult pecker. No, not even if you take after him.

Rule #9 - Get verbal. You may not be much of a talker in the bedroom, but sexting can get pretty bland without the use of adjectives. Yep - you can even say the bad words.

Rule #10 - Privacy is paramount. In all honesty, if someone choses to partake in this rainy-day activity with you they're doing so because they trust that the conversation and visuals will remain between the two of you. Keep it that way. If the sexting goes public you will lose your partner and none of her friends will want to play either. Not to mention, a spiteful one may go viral with your own image and grandma may see more of her little man than she'd like. Or worse: the whole school sees YOUR little man and you really will not get laid 'till college.

Good luck!

Dealbreakers

When I first started this blog I was newly single and ready to take on the world. I had high hopes and vowed that I would open my mind to new and exciting individuals. Now - not so much. I've realized there are a few things I just cannot seem to get past no matter how hard I try. That may sound like I'm judgmental but I believe I have realistic reasons for these judgments. Note that these are MY dealbreakers and should not be considered standard. You should, however, have your own set in place. It's okay to be picky when it's your life.

1. Face tattoos. We've already discussed this. Still a problem. I have a professional career and I can't see myself claiming a man, in public and in front of colleagues, with inked tears on his face. Sorry.

2. Unemployed. I know the economy is bad right now. But here's the thing... if you're unemployed, you should probably be focusing on finding employment rather than focusing on me. And I require a great deal of focus.

3. Kids. I like kids. I'd even like to have a couple someday... but not today. I'm not mature enough to have children right now. Clearly, a person with children probably is. And that's great. Just not for me.

4. To be continued...